Recipe for Romance
By
Sue Perkins
Copyright © 2018 Sue Perkins
All Rights Reserved
Cover Artist: Carol Fiorillo
Except for use in any review, no part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author Sue Perkins.
These books are works of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my sister Jan. She was my number one fan and is missed so much.
Chapter One
Reeve ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. The ledgers on his desk didn't make sense. His company had made an offer for the Hibiscus Hotel because the previous year's accounts had showed a small but healthy profit. The figures in front of him bore little resemblance to those from the previous year.
The accommodation income differed only slightly and could be due to the summer season not yet being in full swing. The abrupt downturn in the restaurant profits was worrying. The figures indicated the restaurant was a popular venue for functions and casual dining plus the hotel guests twelve months ago. The casual customers had dropped fifty percent during the last six months, and few functions were booked in the foreseeable future.
He scanned the books again, confirming what he'd already noticed. The downhill trend had started six months ago, slowly at first, but gaining momentum until the restaurant barely managed to break even. Reeve closed the ledgers and stood, stretching to take the kinks out of his shoulders.
He'd arrived at the hotel early to go over things with the manager, but had been slightly disconcerted to find Mr. Bennett had called in sick. The elderly man had also decided to take early retirement, which left Reeve in charge. It had taken him nearly an hour to find the records he wanted in the untidy manager's office and another hour to check and recheck the figures.
By now breakfast would be finished. This would be the best time to take the ledgers through to the restaurant and go over them with the head chef. He sighed in annoyance as he paused to wipe the smear of dust from his hands.
As he crossed the reception area he noticed how dark and old-fashioned it looked, but this didn't excuse the untidiness.
"Good morning," he greeted the head receptionist. "Could you get one of your staff to tidy the magazines on the side tables? Oh, yes, I'd appreciate it if you could ask the housekeeper to send one of her maids to thoroughly clean my office. Thank you."
The woman blushed and nodded in reply. He turned and headed for the restaurant. The room was empty, as he had expected. The staff had cleared the tables and set them up for lunch, but once again the tiredness of the room drew his attention. Until the restaurant made a profit, no money would be available to upgrade the dining area.
A crash from the kitchen caught his attention and, placing the ledgers on a nearby table, he strode through the swing doors. He could hardly believe the sight which met his eyes. He had expected a well-run, busy kitchen. Instead dirty breakfast dishes haphazardly overflowed the sink. A dusting of flour lay everywhere, and he could not see any work being done. In fact no one was in the room as far as he could tell.
Muttered words of anger drew him toward the far end of the kitchen where he found a young woman dressed in the kitchen uniform of checked trousers and white jacket.
"Bother!" she exploded as she dragged the hat from her auburn head, and threw it onto the nearby desk.
"I don't think tantrums are going to help, do you?"
At the sound of his voice she spun round and stared at him.
"I—um." Her green eyes flashed with annoyance as she struggled for composure, then she straightened and asked haughtily, "Can I help you?"
"I hope so. I know you're busy, but could you find the head chef and tell him I wish to see him in the restaurant?"
The look on her face warred between surprise and irritation. Her expression was so comical Reeve turned and left the room before he burst out laughing.
FOR ONE SECOND KIRSTY considered hurling a flour-covered pastry ball after the retreating figure. It would make such a satisfying white mess in his perfectly groomed dark hair. Before she had time to act on the temptation the stranger left the room, the restaurant doors swinging in his wake.
"What does he think I am?" Kirsty muttered as she headed for the staff cloakroom. "Some sort of lackey? Who the heck does he think he is, giving me orders?"
She washed the flour from her hands, smoothed down her white linen jacket, and straightened her trousers. After inspecting her appearance in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose at what she saw, and carefully wiped the streak of flour from her forehead. She placed the cap back on her head, tucked her wayward hair inside, and marched through the doors to do battle with the stranger.
The man sat at a table in the bay window with several ledgers open before him. Kirsty's eyes narrowed as she took in his sun-tanned features and the well-muscled body. She hesitated for a moment before walking quietly across the room, her scrutiny becoming more intense as the distance between them narrowed.
Mmm, not bad looking. Probably in his late twenties or early thirties. Rugged good looks with a cute bend in the nose. Who the devil is he?
Kirsty shivered as she remembered the cynical way those grey eyes had looked at her. He was attractive maybe, but a dangerous being lurked beneath those handsome features. She finished her appraisal with a decisive nod and made up her mind. He's a salesman, probably with a few years experience under his belt. Well, I know exactly how to deal with stuck-up salesmen!
She sailed across the remaining distance, her trim figure crisp and businesslike. The stranger glanced up as she reached the table. His eyes flickered with annoyance.
"The head chef? I wanted to see him." He tapped his pen irritably on the table.
"So you said, but Chef sees people at his convenience." Kirsty looked down at him, her eyes sparkling with enjoyment at this battle of words. "You can't see him today. It's his day off. I'm the sous-chef."
"You'll have to do then."
Did he have to make her sound second best?
He glanced down at the ledger books. "Now you're here—please sit down."
"I'll do no such thing. Come back another day when Chef's here." She marched back to the kitchen with her head held high.
REEVE ROSE, INTENDING to follow the explosive young woman, but he hesitated. Perhaps it would be best to let her cool down first. He found himself amused by the prickly sous-chef as the seconds ticked by. He liked staff who would speak their own minds. However, he did feel she had taken her attitude a bit too far, especially as most people tried to make a good impression on the new boss.
Suddenly he remembered her words, and realized he hadn't introduced himself. She wouldn't have a clue he had taken over the management of the hotel. She probably thought he was another salesman. With a smile on his face he walked to the kitchen doors. He had hoped to implement his plans with the co-operation of the hotel staff, and upsetting them on
his first day would make things difficult. He'd better smooth things over with the woman before she blew the confrontation out of all proportion.
IN THE SAFETY OF THE kitchen Kirsty leaned against the wall with a sigh of relief. Her knees trembled with the aftermath of anger, and she had to take several deep breaths before her legs felt strong enough to support her. When she calmed down, she walked slowly to the cloakroom and washed her hands.
"Being upset by a cretin like him isn't going to get anything done," Kirsty muttered, drying her hands on the towel and putting on her apron. Re-entering the kitchen, she headed for her workstation and in a slightly louder voice asked the empty room, "Just who does he think he is?"
"Who do you think I am?"
Kirsty spun round. Did he always move so silently? She didn't trust people who crept up on her in such a quiet manner.
"I imagine you're a pompous salesman full of your own self-importance." Her anger got the better of her, despite her resolve to keep calm.
"Do you always talk to salesmen the way you spoke to me?" One of his dark eyebrows rose inquiringly.
"No, I don't!" Kirsty nervously bit the inside of her lip. Maybe he wasn't a salesman, but if not, who was he? A horrible thought occurred to her. Oh, no, please don't let him be the health inspector! It took a lot of willpower to keep her voice level as she continued. "Chef deals with salesmen. I'm sorry if I appeared rude, but you've got to admit your manner was very high-handed."
"Oh, I don't think so." Reeve's eyes danced with anticipation as he looked at Kirsty. "I spoke to you the same way I speak to any member of my staff who isn't doing his or her job efficiently."
"Member of your staff! Who—I mean..." Kirsty spluttered, then stopped.
"The name is Reeve Stuart." Humor twitched the corner of his mouth. "My group now owns the Hibiscus Hotel!"
Kirsty's eyes widened in horror as she recalled what she had said to the man towering over her.
"O...Owner!" she gasped. "I heard they were selling the hotel to the Garden Group, but rumor said Mr. Bennett would stay in charge until he retired next month."
"Mr. Bennett has influenza, and has decided to take early retirement. From now on, I'll be in charge." Reeve paused, and Kirsty realized he was waiting for her to respond.
"Oh!" Kirsty stared at him, mouth open. She couldn't think of anything else to say, and knew he must think her a total idiot. She shut her mouth quickly. No need to look as stupid as she felt.
"Do you have nothing else to say?" Reeve sighed. "An explanation for the disgusting state of this kitchen would be appropriate, don't you think?"
Kirsty watched his gaze travel slowly over the dirty dishes and flour-strewn work areas. When he looked back at her, his eyes repeated the question.
"'Flu!" she forced through frozen lips.
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's Chef's day off, and both our kitchen maids rang in sick this morning." Kirsty swallowed nervously. "Look, I'm sorry for being rude. You didn't say who you were, and I've been on my own all morning. Trying to cope with the lunchtime menu single-handed isn't easy. I'm afraid everything got on top of me."
She moved toward the sink full of dishes.
"Leave it." Reeve's hand reached out to touch her shoulder, and she held her breath. Luckily he stopped before he made contact, but he stood so close Kirsty could smell his spicy aftershave. "Have you tried to find temporary staff?"
Kirsty bit back an angry retort and forced herself to remain calm as a warm, nervous feeling stirred in her stomach. With difficulty she forced her mind back to the present and turned toward her workstation.
"I've rung the agency." Her voice remained calm and reasonable. "Unfortunately, this isn't the only place to be hit by illness. There are no kitchen staff available until tomorrow."
Reeve removed the jacket of his dark business suit, and hung it up on a hook next to Chef's desk. Kirsty licked her dry lips at the sight of the muscles rippling under his brilliant white shirt. He tied on a fresh apron, tutting under his breath. He strode across the room to the kitchen sink while rolling up his sleeves. Kirsty heard him sigh when he saw how many dishes were hidden in the murky depths.
"Can I assume you've engaged temporary staff for tomorrow?"
"Of course. I've booked two people for the rest of the week." Kirsty blinked in astonishment. The immaculately dressed man pulled on pink rubber gloves and plunged his hands into the greasy water. He presented such an absurd picture she had difficulty suppressing her laughter.
"I would have thought a kitchen this size would have invested in a dishwasher," Reeve muttered in annoyance.
Kirsty quickly turned the laughter which escaped her lips into a strangled cough. A shiver ran down her spine as he glanced at her across the intervening space. With her features composed she pointed to the stainless steel monster lurking in the far corner, then turned her attention to her own work.
A loud clatter of pots and pans sounded behind her as Reeve loaded the dishwasher. Kirsty tried to forget his presence and carry on with her own duties, but found it difficult. A strong temptation built up to peek and see how the arrogant executive coped with the enormous pile of breakfast dishes, some of which had to be washed by hand. Her thoughts drifted, and she wondered what he meant when he said his group now owned the hotel. Did he mean he represented them? Or did he own the Garden Group? No, not at his age, she decided. Besides, rich bosses didn't get their hands dirty with the day-to-day running of their properties, figuratively or literally. Yet this well-dressed executive had not hesitated to become elbow-deep in dirty dishwater. No doubt he was an accountant here to check up on the turnover.
"What's next?" His voice sounded close as she finished the seafood platter and placed the final savory flan into the oven. She set the timer before replying.
"Vegetables." Kirsty indicated the sack of potatoes sitting inside the doorway of the cool room. "The salad ingredients need washing, and the dessert trolley has to be laid out."
"With what?" He glanced around the room.
"Pardon?"
"What are you going to put on the dessert trolley?" Reeve asked.
"When everything else is finished, I'll raid the freezer." Kirsty kept her amusement hidden as he looked at her in astonishment. "We're a small hotel. If anyone's absent, it throws the kitchen routine into complete chaos. Chef always makes sure we have plenty of desserts in the freezer for an emergency. It's replaced on a regular basis. Which reminds me, today's menu will have to be altered."
Kirsty watched in amazement as Reeve displayed a good knowledge of food handling. In her experience, most up-and-coming young executives came straight from business college, and didn't have a clue about the practical side of things. This man knew exactly what needed doing. He surprised her further when he set up the dessert trolley on his own, his speed proving he'd done it before. By the time the restaurant staff arrived, the soup and main courses were ready, and the delicious smell of baked quiche drifted through the kitchen. Reeve had altered the lunch menus and he placed them in their folders.
"I'll get one of the waitresses from the restaurant to help with the lunchtime rush." He pulled down his shirt sleeves and fastened his cufflinks.
"Thank you. I'd appreciate the help."
Kirsty realized Reeve hadn't heard the sarcasm in her voice. He frowned in a preoccupied way as he shrugged his broad shoulders into the jacket of his suit and straightened his tie. Menus in hand he strode purposefully through the restaurant doors. Kirsty couldn't help herself. She had to see how he handled the pompous head waiter. As she pushed the restaurant door ajar, she peered through the narrow gap and eavesdropped on their conversation. Relief flooded through her when she saw Reeve had his back to her. She had difficulty suppressing her laughter when she saw the dismayed expression on the face of Henri, the head waiter.
"One of your staff will have to help out in the kitchen during the lunch hour. Two of the kitchen maids are ill." Reeve Stuart's deep voice carried easily to the kitch
en doorway.
"No! Such a thing is impossible!" The head waiter's face flushed a deep red, and he stared at Reeve in disbelief. "I cannot possibly manage without a full complement of staff."
"Nonsense! If it becomes necessary, I'll step in and wait on tables. No!" He held up a hand to silence Henri. "The kitchen won't be able to cope without help, and your diners will go hungry. I leave it to you to choose which waiter or waitress you can spare."
Kirsty ducked back through the door as Reeve turned toward the kitchen. By the time he entered the room her hands were busy placing plates into the warmer.
"Someone from the restaurant will come and help you with the clearing up, but I'm afraid the bulk of the work will fall on your shoulders. I'll pop in from time to time to make sure there are no problems. If you have any difficulties, contact reception and they'll page me."
"Thank you, Mr. Stuart." Kirsty hoped he realized her sincerity. Without his help she couldn't have made it halfway through the food preparations, and wouldn't be ready for the lunchtime rush. The implication she couldn't cope with the lunch orders ruffled her temper a little. She forced the irritation down acknowledging she wouldn't be able to cope on her own and blinked as she saw his outstretched hand.
"Thank you, Miss..."
"Lawrence. Kirsty Lawrence." She reached out her hand to touch his, only to quickly withdraw as an unwelcome shock tingled her fingers.
"Miss Lawrence." He looked startled, and Kirsty wondered if he'd experienced a similar reaction. "Thank you for your hard work this morning. I know you must have been working under difficult circumstances when I arrived on the scene."
Reeve nodded sharply and left the room. Between his swift departure and the first orders coming through from the restaurant, Kirsty did not have a chance to think of a reply.
The waitress helping in the kitchen complained all through lunch. Her grumbling ranged from wanting extra money for doing work outside of her job description to taking her complaint to the union. Her main accusations revolved around the new manager.
Recipe for Romance Page 1